Nick McGray

In junior high and high school, you and I did a lot as pals in and around the Connecticut River meadows near our homes.  I remember walking our dogs, Josie and Minx, and long conversations with you.  You always had a book to read and a creative project that I could join you in discussing and doing.  We must have made twenty different designs of kites and model airplanes to fly in the meadows, as well as that big hot-air balloon you created with the same banana-doped tissue paper used for our model airplanes.  I was surprised it didn't burn up like the Hindenberg, but the large hole you dug in your yard kept the fire-box contained.  Slowly the balloon filled with hot air, and we took all sorts of data on temperature and lift-force by using some of your father's thermodynamic instruments.  

 

I was usually the follower and helper while you were the initiator of most non-sports activity.  We both seemed OK with that.  By high school my afternoons were filled with track and cross-country, and you were in more clubs, activities, and theater.  We still enjoyed skiing and sail boating with each other's families and occasional dinner at each other's homes.  Your mother made a great Indian meal, undoubtedly motivated by your dad's early life in India with his missionary parents.   

 

Mike, you may not think you had a mischievous sense of humor, but you did.  Once I expressed my envy of your one-dollar allowance when I only received twenty-five cents for mine. You said, "We can fix that," and proceeded to throw pennies into a nearby brook.  Taking advantage of my overdone sense of thrift, you knew I would wade into the brook and fish out the money much to your amusement.

 

On our seventh-grade Halloween we decided we were too mature to beg for candy, so we took eggs to throw at other kids and soap to do up the high school.  You soaped a window of one of your teachers and then convinced me to write a very bad word so it read correctly from the inside of my English teacher's classroom.  The next day my teacher, who I liked a lot, was furious and offered a twenty-five cent reward for information leading to the identity of the miscreant.  You threatened me with exposure for a month, and I really thought you would do it.  You never tried to blackmail me. You just kept threatening!  It's crazy how kids torment each other just for a good laugh. 

 

When I was sixteen, our thousand-mile bike trip through New England was a maturing event.  With Peter Waring and David Vanderlip, we all learned to work as a team, deal with differences, and meet emergencies like David's concussion in Rutland Vermont.  Learning to deal with empty time by playing games, reading, and planning the next day was also a lot of fun. Our five-day fifty-mile hike with Jack was another good time as we debated Jack's well reasoned Mormanism and read the liberal philosophy of Bertrand Russel after dinner on the trail.  You must also remember working with Barry Nielsen on your father's historical house refurbishing project.  Barry and I had a good time visiting you at U.C. Berkley  when you were studying Tamal in preparation for academic work in India.  Looking back as a retired high school teacher, I think we all were a pretty precocious bunch of kids.  Take care, and be good.

 

Nick